


Howl

by molmcmahon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Mpreg, Robb Stark is King in the North
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15282057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molmcmahon/pseuds/molmcmahon
Summary: Harry Potter is reborn as the son of the Mountain, Gregor Clegane.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that '917brat' thought up, having Harry reborn as the son of Gregor Clegane. 
> 
> Also, I do not own either HP or GoT. JK Rowling and GRR Martin own their respective characters and worlds.

Harry watched from afar as his father mounted his horse and rode off, whipping the poor creature hard. It was 289 years after Aegon the Conqueror had made a kingdom and the ironborn were rebelling. Lord Tywin had called for his banners and the Mountain had answered the call. His uncle had also answered the call but Harry only knew of it from the raven that the Lannister’s maester had sent.

He watched as his giant of a father rode off, watched as the Mountain disappeared from view, and breathed a sigh of relief. Harry turned around and saw the few servants who stayed breath a sigh of relief too. His two dogs also wagged their tails a little and barked joyously. 

“C’mon, sweetling. Let’s go back to your chores now,” Alise murmured, reaching out to grasp Harry’s shoulder. “Now that the master is out.”

“Alright. Can Padfoot and Moony come too?” Harry questioned, turning up to look at his former wet nurse and now caretaker. “They won’t bother us.”

Alise peered down at the two dogs and nodded, reaching down to pet Padfoot. “‘Course. Let’s go make sure everyone else is okay. You know how your father gets.”

Harry nodded, grimacing and reaching up to grap Alise’s hand. Clegane Keep had no maester but Alise was as good as the servants were going to get. They walked back into the tower, with his two hounds following him.

“I don’t know how you knew of Rolan’s injury, Harry,” Alise remarked, as they headed over to the kitchens. “Or of Marleya’s moon blood not coming. I had them both leave during the night.”

“I was in the kitchen’s cat’s body!” Harry exclaimed, tapping his temple. His magic had taken on a whole other nature when he had gotten reborn in this world. It was still as he remembered but now… “I could smell them and the babe!”

Alise blinked, paling a little. “You’re a warg?”

Harry tilted his head, brushing a few strands of black hair off of his forehead. He didn’t miss his lightning bolt scar even if he was only eight years old. Eight and 18 all at the same time. He had died just shy of his 18th nameday back in England and had been reborn here. “Warg?”

“A northern talent,” Alise spoke, as they joined the one cook in the kitchens. “You should keep that from your father, lad.”

“I’ve always kept secrets from my father,” Harry grumbled, crossing his short arms. He knew he was rather tall for his age but that was due to having the Mountain for a father. He towered over the children of the smallfolk he had seen over the years. And his height alone marked him as son of the Mountain though he tried to hide who his father was. “Uncle Sandor listens better.”

Alise’s eyes narrowed in thought then shook her head. “Be that as it may… Why don’t you go play with the cook’s son? I will make a dinner for us.”

Harry stared at her then nodded, running off towards his room in the tower. Gregor didn’t leave the keep very often so it seemed like the whole keep was breathing a sigh of relief.

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

_ “A boy. You have a son, ser.” _

_ Gregor stared at the midwife, his head aching with all the noise. His wife, one of the smallfolk that he had chanced upon a year ago, was prone in bed, holding his newborn babe. He pulled out the flask of milk of the poppy that was on his belt and took a good drink, peering at the small child on his wife’s chest. _

_ The boy had a few tufts of black hair and green eyes and was quiet for a babe just born. Gregor reached out to touch the boy, letting his hand drop on the boy’s small foot. His wife’s breast lay just under his gloved palm and Gregor let his hand drop to curl around it through the haze of pain. _

_ “Ser! You’re hurting--” _

_ Gregor used his other hand to draw his sword and impaled the midwife right through her loud mouth. The woman’s breath gurgled with blood and then she keeled over, landing with a sloppy thump to the stone floor. Gregor sheathed his sword and turned back to the babe, curling his hand back over the boy’s foot. The boy cried out, sudden and loud at the pressure Gregor was putting on his foot. _

_ His wife looked at him with wide, fearful green eyes, but otherwise didn’t comment.  _

_ “Harrold Clegane. Name him that.” _

_ Gregor withdrew, hearing the cry of a raven and walked out of the birthing room, and up to the roost of the tower.  _

_ Lord Tywin was calling his banners in preparation of picking a side in Robert’s war. _

  
  


* * *

 

 

Gregor Clegane was worse than Vernon Dursley but he didn’t spend much time around Harry. The Mountain often times left his son alone to be raised by the servants that even dared to work in the tower. Harry took to avoiding his father and his men too, knowing how to not push his father further when he was raging or drunk. He helped the servants avoid them and helped treat their injuries when his father hurt them. 

He usually tried to keep his magic from his father, choosing to use it in secrecy or not use it at all. Of course, his father had been the first one to see that Harry was a warg. When Harry had been 13 years old, his father had taken him hunting. Harry had grown wary of his father’s men, none of whom were knights and all of whom spoke of the Mountain’s infamous deeds in the rebellion with envy. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ “No son of mine won’t go hunting,” Gregor said, smirking already at the thought of hunting. Mayhaps he would find another woman around to service his needs. “Come.” _

_ Harry raised an eyebrow at his father, holding in a flinch, before nodding. “Alright, father.” _

_ He went to go saddle his horse, gesturing away the servant who tried to do it for him. There weren’t that many servants who stayed in their keep but he tried to protect the few who did. He pulled out a carrot and let his pony munch on it while he saddled it, mounting up and following his father out of the barn. _

_ This time on the hunt, they were joined by Ser Amory Lorch, the man who had been rumored to have murdered Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Harry wrinkled his nose and urged his pony ahead, passing Raff the Sweetling and Chiswyck.  _

_ “What was it like to murder that girl?” Raff asked, leering at Harry and winking. Harry’s stomach lurched and he guided his pony ahead further, looking out at the mountains that surrounded them. Clegane Keep was on the southern side of the mountain range that separated the westerlands from the riverlands. _

_ “Oh, I enjoyed it,” Amory replied, grinning and showing more teeth than was considered polite. “Princesses shout as much as women here do.” _

_ Harry shivered, grimacing, and turned his pony in the direction of Cornfield, the seat of House Swyft. He would be leaving in a week to become squire to Ser Addam Marbrand and he was readily looking forward to that. He wondered if he could see his uncle, Sandor, while he was there but he figured not. He knew Sandor was over in King’s Landing, guarding the Queen.  _

_ He shuddered as his pony walked on, his thoughts going to the past as they left the hunt and his father’s men behind. When he had been reborn here, he wondered if he had had pissed off some god or another. To be born to the Mountain, who had raped and murdered Princess Elia and killed Prince Aegon… At least… he hadn’t been born a prince himself, to King Robert Baratheon. _

_ He would not have enjoyed that. And here, he could do some good. Helping the servants when he could and healing them.  _

_ Harry was so lost in thought that his pony had left the path, taken them far from his father and his men. The sun lit up the coastal trail he was on and he could just faintly see the towering keep of Casterly Rock and Lannisport to the north. There was a slight breeze, flowing downwind and bringing the scent of the ocean to him and he inhaled deeply, enjoying it very much. _

_ “You think you’re better than us, don’t you?” _

_ His pony whickered in fright and Harry startled, gathering up the reins in tight hands, and turned around. The man gaining ground towards him was one of his father’s men, one that liked to participate in a few of the rapes that Harry had heard of. _

_ Harry urged his pony forward, in the other direction, towards a wooded, hilly area. The river that flowed a few miles away grew louder as he rode towards it. His mount listened and started into a canter then transitioned into a gallop as Harry fled the man. His magic flared within him, threatening to break out.  _

_ His pony fled, foaming at the mouth, as the the hounds behind them started to howl. Harry winced, not wanting to let loose his magic now, not when it wasn’t controlled and channeled through a wand. He didn’t have a wand yet but he was on the lookout for good wood. _

_ “At least, you’ll provide us with a good prize!” _

_ Harry turned his pony around, heading around a bend and ran right into Chiswyck and Raff. One of them raised a spear and threw it right at his pony. His pony squealed in pain as the spear hit and its’ hooves buckled. Harry flew off, a crumple of human and pony hitting the ground. _

  
  


_ When he woke up next, there was someone sitting over his arse, fucking him. The intrusion felt awful and dry though he had a bad feeling about the liquid sliding down his thigh. The grunts coming from above him sounded pleased and animal. _

_ “Fuck, you’re tight.” _

_ Harry squirmed, flinching as the man hit him, spending in him at just that moment. He reached inside himself and let his magic free, power flooding out of him in a huge burst. There was a scream and then nothing as the man who had raped him died in a burst of raw magic. Harry just lay there, breathing heavily, liquid and blood running down his thighs and… He closed his eyes, feeling his stomach lurch and roil. The man’s cock was still in him, separated from the rest of the remains of the body. _

_ Harry reached out with just a little strand of magic, picturing the organ in his mind and levitating it out of him. The cock came out with a wet squick and Harry banished it with a quick thought, not even looking at it. _

_ He took a few minutes to just stay there, slowly sitting up and sicking up what was left of the midday meal. To his right sat his dead pony. Harry sat there, staring at his dead mount before he heard a quiet bark and howl. He heard the steps of dogs right before two entered the clearing.  _

_ Harry reached down to grab the dagger in his belt, tightening his fingers around the hilt. The hounds loped over towards him and he studied them. One was a moon white with grey spots and brown eyes while the other was a shaggy black with grey eyes. The two hounds came to a stop at his dead pony, sniffing around briefly before looking over to him. _

_ The two trotted over to him then curled at his side, flanking him. Harry sucked in a tight breath and ran a hand through the white one’s fur. “Should have figured. Father’s men… I should get out of the westerlands. At least, after becoming a knight.” _

_ Harry slowly stood up, testing his legs, which were steady… enough. “I’ll go to Cornfield, send a raven to Lord Marbrand, see if he’ll take me sooner.” _

_ He started to walk and the hounds followed, licking his legs occasionally. Harry peered down at them, his lips twitching up into a tentative grin. “You two coming with me?” _

_ The black one whined, glanced up at him and panted, appearing to smile. _

_ “I’ll take that as a yes. You know… You look a lot like my godfather back in my first life. And your companion looks as white as the moon. I could call you Padfoot and Moony?” _

_ The white one yipped quietly and nuzzled against him. The black one howled, the excited sound of a dog that just found his pack. Mayhaps his godfather and his surrogate godfather had followed him to Westeros, just not in human shape. Harry grinned at the thought, burying his hands in their fur. _

_ “Alright then.” _

 

* * *

 

 

After that incident Harry grew up knowing to avoid his father and his father’s men most of the time. Harry had known to not tell his father about it, knowing that either Gregor wouldn’t care or would punish him. He knew some of the women that lived in the town under the keep had been raped and had looked to Lord Clegane, Gregor’s father, and hadn’t lived very much longer after that.

Whenever Gregor was around, he used the servants’ tunnels or stairs to avoid him. Harry went out hunting or out to visit the smallfolk, who knew him well and appreciated his visits. Every one of the smallfolk knew what he could do and that he could heal them and help them find food, help them avoid the Mountain’s men. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Harry had just turned ten and eight when Gregor Clegane got called to Casterly Rock. He had eavesdropped on his father when he received the raven, hearing Gregor mutter something about the riverlands and his liege lord’s son getting kidnapped.

Lord Tywin Lannister was apparently calling on the Mountain to rape, pillage and burn the riverlands in retaliation. Lady Catelyn Stark had kidnapped Tyrion so the westerlands would take revenge on the lady’s homeland. Harry grimaced at the news, knowing what kind of pillaging his father would do. He had met Tyrion once, during his squire years. Those months had been rather eventful for him and he had tried to avoid his father during that time.

  
  


* * *

 

 

_ “Did you hear? The Mountain’s son is with child!” _

_ “What kind of a boy gets pregnant? Is he some kind of changeling? A child of the forest?” _

_ Harry wrinkled his nose as he urged his horse past a blacksmith in King’s Landing. Of course, he was closer to the children of the forest than most people thought. His wet nurse had said he was a warg and he had occasionally entered Padfoot’s mind. He had accidentally traveled into Padfoot’s mind, the black dog that had taken a liking to him. Moony had looked at him funny all that week. _

_ Ser Addam Marbrand, his knightmaster, had thought to visit Lord Tywin, and they had gone first through the city. He had enjoyed learning from the heir to Ashemark and Addam was certainly a man he’d follow but perhaps…  _

_ “Harry, are you sure you want to come with me? You could have stayed outside the city,” Addam remarked as they rode past a few sell swords. “In Lannisport.” _

_ “I’ve always wanted to see the Rock,” Harry answered, sighing. “Besides, these are all late rumors. I already… I drank moon tea a month ago.” _

_ Addam looked at him, raised an eyebrow. “You certainly do not have to come with me to meet Lord Tywin. I do not-” _

_ “I’ll wait in the hall.” _

_ Addam nodded, already knowing some of what Harry wasn’t saying. He knew of Harry’s disgust towards the warden of the west and his dealings with the Targaryen princess and children. _

_ Addam walked off, taking a set of stairs to Tywin’s separate audience chamber. Harry walked around the great hall of Casterly Rock, looking at the tapestries and various decorations. It was empty but for him and a few Lannister guards for several minutes before Harry was interrupted in his thoughts. _

_ “You’d be the one that was with child a month ago. You’re the Mountain’s boy.” _

_ Harry froze before settling his shoulders and turning around, peering at the young man in front of him. The famous Tyrion Lannister, dwarf of Casterly Rock and son of Tywin. “And you’re Tywin’s son. We’re a pair, aren’t we?” _

_ Tyrion’s eyes narrowed as he looked Harry over, his mismatched green and black eyes lit with curiosity. “The Dwarf of Casterly Rock and the Mountain’s son. How did you get with child anyway? No one knows how you did it.” _

_ “It wasn’t my idea of a good time,” Harry remarked idly, staring at Tyrion and subtly marking a rune in mid-air behind him. He had learned, throughout the past year or so, that with training, making runes was the most he could do with his unchanneled magic. Healing runes and runes of hiding… That was it. He’d need to find the makings of wand soon. _

_ Tyrion snorted. “For women it usually is.” _

_ “If you count rape a good time then yes.” _

_ Tyrion blinked, peering closer at Harry. “So it was true.” _

_ “Of course, I would be more than happy to settle down and have children with someone I loved,” Harry explained, shrugging. “It wasn’t a one time thing, getting pregnant, and my father...” _

_ “Your father is the Mountain,” Tyrion finished, glancing up to the audience chamber door, where his father was. “I would imagine he’s as good a father as he is a lover.” _

_ Harry blinked and then broke out into strangled laughter. “I cannot unsee that now. Thanks for that.” _

_ Tyrion grinned. “You are welcome.” _

_ Harry nodded, looking to a few of the Lannister guards behind them then back to Tyrion. “I would imagine we have something in common then.” _

_ “Bad fathers,” Tyrion said, sighing, his lips twitching up into a slightly wider grin. “Yes, we have that in common.” _

  
  


* * *

 

 

Moony and Padfoot barked excitedly, watching as Harry saddled his horse. He strapped his blade to it, the shining rubies of the hilt making him smile at the many memories that it brought, and added a pack of food and a sleeping roll. His father had rode out a week ago and Harry was going after him. Or at least… Harry figured he would follow after his father discreetly, clean up what he could and help the smallfolk in whatever was coming.

Harry swung up into the saddle and urged his horse out of the stable, waving goodbye to the few servants, and trotted off. His two hounds followed, loping next to the horse.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The sounds of battle increased in the air as Harry rode ever closer to the Trident, steering his horse through the riverlands. He was close to the Crossroads Inn and the Mummer’s Ford, with Stone Hedge to the north west and Harrenhal to the south. Moony and Padfoot loped alongside his horse, keeping quiet, and on the lookout. Harry could see multiple men clashing at the Mummer’s Ford, some three miles away and his father was definitely amongst them.

The Mountain was fighting against someone of House Dondarrion, House Darry, and a few other houses of the riverlands. Steel clashed against steel as he slowed his horse down to a walk and then to a standstill in between bushes and a few trees, not wanting to be seen. Shouts carried on the wind as Harry watched the fight unfold, seeing who was fighting. He vaguely recognized Lord Beric Dondarrion but he didn’t know any of the others.

The sun was high in the sky when silence finally poured out of the ford, the rushing waters of the river the only sound left. Harry kept still, having dismounted from his horse. Padfoot whined from where he was, sitting on his haunches a few trees in front of him. “Alright. Give me a minute.”

Harry tied his horse to a tree and dropped his hand to Gryffindor’s sword. He was pretty good with a blade but it wasn’t his prefered weapon. He slowly walked forward, keeping a tree at his back each minute. His two hounds followed, their tails wagging excitedly but their ears pinned down. They could probably smell his father and his men and then there was the blood. They encountered corpses as soon as they left the wooded area, the Ford just a few feet in front of them. 

“Look for survivors,” Harry said, gesturing to where more bodies were. Some bodies were even floating downriver on the Trident, going east to the Bay of Crabs and out to the Narrow Sea. Moony and Padfoot spread out ahead of him, sniffing each body and moving on.

Harry tread carefully, making sure to not step on any body or in blood. His father’s men had clearly won, as Harry spotted some men, face down on the ground, from the stormlands and at least a few from the riverlands. There were quite a few Stark men, their wolf banner stuck on a rock in the river and bloodied. 

Padfoot found one survivor and Harry hastened over to tend to the victim, pulling him out of the water and starting to murmur healing spells. The man was wearing a tunic with a broach on it, with the sigil of House Darry. The man had an arrow in his shoulder and another in his chest, blood spurting out from it.

The man was already unconscious so Harry got to work, pulling out the arrow in the man’s chest and murmuring healing spells to knit the skin together. Another spell to mend any internal damage. He repeated both spells on the man’s shoulder wound, pulling the arrow out and putting pressure on the injury before spelling it closed. 

Right before he finished with the shoulder, the man shuddered awake, his brown eyes wide and frantic. Harry pressed down the man’s chest, catching the man’s eyes and spoke another spell. 

“Hold on. I’m not going to hurt you,” Harry muttered, watching as the area around the shoulder wound knitted up. “What’s your name?”

“Ser Raymun, of House Darry. Who are you?”

“Ser Harry. I came because I heard fighting.”

Raymun looked at him, blinked once. “You saved my life. How?”

“I learned a few things from the maesters. It’s not a big deal,” Harry offered, looking the man over once more before helping him up. “You should probably get back to Riverrun and send word about the Mountain.”

“You can come with me,” Raymun remarked, his face pale still from the shock. “Are you a hedge knight?”

“No. I was just passing by,” Harry answered, shrugging. He saw that Raymun was about to speak again when Padfoot let out a loud growl. He looked around at the bank in front of him, about to signal his hounds off when Moony whined. 

Harry turned to look at the far side of the river bank and ran over with Ser Raymun, seeing both of his hounds flanking two men and a body. One of the men was young, clearly a squire and from Starfall, if the blue eyes and pale blond hair was any indication. The other man… Harry didn’t recognize but Ser Raymun did.

“Thoros, you made it!” Raymun exclaimed, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

“Can you call off your hounds?”

Harry stared at the older man then peered down at the body that he was kneeling over. The body had a half of a spear sticking out of it and Harry wrinkled his nose at the smell and look of it. “Lord Dondarrion.”

He turned to the younger of the two men. “You must be his squire… Lord Edric Dayne?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Edric said, squinting up at him and shield his eyes from the sun. “You’re tall.”

Harry sighed. “Moony, Padfoot, it’s okay. My mother was tall, or at least, that’s what my wet-nurse said.”

Moony let out one last growl and then backed off, nosing around Padfoot, who followed. 

“Who’re you?” Edric questioned, as they watched the other man tend the body.

“Harry.”

“You aren’t one of the men who came with us,” Edric said. “But thank you.”

Harry nodded idly, thinking on what he knew of two men in front of him. “You’re a red priest, aren’t you? Wait… The man’s already…”

Thoros plucked out the spear from Lord Beric’s body, chanting words under his breath. Harry blinked as he felt something, some kind of energy or power rise up at Thoros’ words and curl around Beric’s body. The air froze around them and then Beric Dondarrion gasped out, jolting upright. 

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

Harry dropped his pile of wood down into the pit, building a fire on it. Flames crackled into being and Edric… Ned, Thoros, Beric and Ser Raymun Darry all sighed in relief. The sun had fallen on the horizon since the battle and they could all hear wolves howling around them. 

“What the fuck happened?” Harry questioned, looking around at the other men. Padfoot and Moony had curled up at his feet and Ned Dayne was sitting next to Padfoot, stroking his fur. The boy was still a squire, still innocent, having not killed a man yet, and he was already Lord of Starfall. 

“The Mountain and his men ambushed us,” Beric said, grimacing and taking a drink out of his flask. Ser Raymun Darry had hunted down a deer and they were all splitting it now. Harry wasn’t exactly sure what the others were thinking of Lord Beric coming back to life, whether or not they were freaking out. At the point of his coming back to life, there had been a dark power around the man, one of flames and omens. Harry hadn’t been sure about what it had meant. “Our orders were to bring him to the king’s justice for burning and killing all throughout the riverlands.”

“King Robert sent you?”

Thoros shook his head, looking at Harry curiously. “His Hand of the King sent us. Lord Eddard Stark. The king’s out hunting. Where are you from?”

“The riverlands,” Harry said without hesitation. “And yes, I know I’m tall.”

Ned grinned.

“Ser Raymun, are you headed to Riverrun or back to Castle Darry?” Beric asked, looking at Harry and Thoros before turning to Raymun. “I know two of our men headed back to Riverrun before we crossed the ford.”

“I’m headed to Castle Darry. I need to make sure our defenses are ready,” Raymun said, taking a bite of venison. “Are you going to try to take the Mountain again?”

“Yes. The smallfolk need defending,” Beric replied, taking his sword out and starting to clean it. “We’ll gather what’s left of us, those who retreated safely, and guard the riverlands from lords and knights and soldiers who want to destroy homes and families.”

“Brotherhood without Banners,” Thoros added. “That’s what we’ll become.”

Harry nodded, stroking Moony’s fur coat. The stars broke out into the sky through the clouds and howling started again. Padfoot’s ears perked up, his tail freezing. Harry’s horse whickered quietly, shaking a little at the threat of wolves. “I’ll help the riverlands too but not… I don’t want to be a part of your group.”

Thoros nodded, his eyes still on Beric. “Something tells me you will have a bigger part to play in this coming war.”

Harry rolled his eyes, hoping that he didn’t have a prophecy in this world. That would just be great… He did know of the prophecy that spoke of the prince that was promised and he certainly wasn’t that man. He knew of the Song of Ice and Fire and he definitely hoped that he wasn’t the person that that prophecy spoke of.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Everyone went their separate ways the next morning. Ser Raymun found a few horses and took one for himself, riding to Castle Darry. Beric, Thoros and Ned rode further into the riverlands, heading for the Crossroads Inn. He spent the day trying to pick up his father’s trail, searching south east for his father’s men. 

The sun was starting to set in the sky before he found something. And that something was a big pack of wolves. Harry had grown near to Harrenhal and to the wooded area that surrounded the giant castle to the north when Padfoot and Moony both froze, their bodies perking up. Howling filled the air and Padfoot joined in, followed by Moony. Harry stopped his horse, looked around for any Lannister patrols or any men that might want to attack. 

It was dusk as wolves surrounded them, coming out from behind bushes and trees. Harry dismounted from his increasingly fearful horse and held on tightly to the reins, yanking on them when his mare reared. The wolves were now a few feet away and Harry looked out over them as he pulled his horse back down to the ground. Moony and Padfoot growled, flanking him and his horse, their teeth bared and ears pinned.

The alpha wolf appeared to be the biggest of the lot, standing in the center of the pack and looking right at him, no fear in her eyes. The hair on the back of his neck and arms stood up at the fierce look the wolf gave him and the absolute fearlessness with which it stood. Harry raised an eyebrow, looking the she-wolf over as his heart beat quickly. The wolf had grey fur and dark yellow eyes and was bigger than his hounds and the rest of the wolves. 

“You look… like a direwolf,” Harry whispered, holding on tightly to the reins of his horse as the she-wolf came ever closer. “Certainly big enough to be a direwolf, I think.” 

Moony and Padfoot continued to growl as the she-wolf inched closer, her paws making giant paw prints in the dirt. The direwolf growled once before her eyes blinked, her tail starting to wag lightly. Harry’s eyes narrowed and the direwolf gave a howl, leading the wolf pack to slink off. He watched as the she-wolf slunk off too, withdrawing back into the riverlands around them.

“Huh…”   

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

Moony was the one to lead them to Stone Hedge, the seat of House Bracken, a few days later. When Harry arrived at the castle, it was burning. Smoke trailed out of windows and the keep’s big door was on the ground, the big stone thing cracked into pieces. He could hear screaming coming from the great hall, joined by loud groaning and grief stricken yells. 

Bodies lay in piles in the yard as he walked through the broken gate, with no one challenging him until he was already passed it.

“Halt! Which house are you from?” A man in the colors of House Bracken ran up to him, favoring his left leg.

“I’m from the Reach. I came to help,” Harry offered, gesturing inside the keep. “I know a great deal of healing skills and I can help rebuild.”

“Lord Jonos is at Riverrun. If you’re here to ask him…”

“I am not here for the lord of House Bracken. I can help here,” Harry retorted, signaling to his two hounds to stay put. “My dogs won’t hurt any of you.”

The guard hesitated, his blue eyes narrowed. “Alright. The Lannisters will be back. You best hurry.”

“If they come back, they had better try us,” Harry said, seeing someone come through the great keep. “Who’s in charge now?”

“The lady of the house,” the guard answered, looking around for something and not finding it. “Both the lord and his nephew are with the Tullys.”

Harry nodded and began to help, going from person to person to heal. He helped one of Lord Bracken’s daughters up to her room, offering her a sleeping draft when he saw the blood between her thighs trail down her legs. He told Padfoot to stay with her before walking back down to the keep’s door. Moony was keeping watch at the gate, looking for any men bearing the Lannister shield or his father’s men. 

There was nothing he could do for the burned harvest but he did give what food he could, stocking up their cellar and pantry with food he had taken. He had accidentally spelled a trunk a few years ago, one to be like the trunks that were in his past life and magical, so he had quite a bit of food to share. He helped put out fires where they were, putting the great door to the keep back up and helping to prop it up with wood.

Just as he was helping to recover lost horses, he heard Moony barking the alarm and he hurriedly gave over the lead line of the horse he was leading to a guard. Harry raced over to the gate, seeing a group of men from House Swyft, one of his liege lord’s bannermen. 

“The siege of Riverrun is still on, I presume,” Harry remarked, hearing the light footsteps of a woman walk over to his side.

“We have not received word otherwise,” Lady Bracken said, as her guards flanked her and drew their swords. Harry could hear bows being drawn and nocked on the walls above them and horses being saddled but there were too few uninjured guards and soldiers. And the men that were coming towards the castle were too many.

Harry called for Padfoot and then stepped past the gate, defensive spells on his lips. “Any word from the Vale or the North?”

“No. The riverlands are on their own. I thank you for your aid, ser,” Lady Bracken spoke. “Would you aid us more?”

“I can do one better.”

Harry walked out and then stepped over to lean against the stone wall, already speaking a rune of hiding, of illusion and feeding some magic into it. He really didn’t want to kill any of these men but he did not want to see House Bracken suffer any more. Fog grew around them, running over the castle behind him and covered the whole keep. 

The men of House Swyft stopped their horses, sheathed their blades. Harry could hear them bickering, arguing over who had directed them to a dead end or who had turned the wrong way. Moony and Padfoot stayed silent at his feet, the two hounds sensing the need to be quiet. The westerland men turned away a mile off and left to go back north, to Riverrun. 

Harry heard Lady Bracken breath a sigh of relief and then turned back to the keep behind him. “I will take my leave then.”

The woman nodded, looking him over. “Thank you again for whatever you did.”

He could hear the apprehension in her voice but she did not comment on his magic and nor did anyone else as he packed up and mounted his horse. Padfoot and Moony loped out of the keep’s yard with him and they left Stone Hedge behind them.

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

Two nights later, he was rooming at the Crossroads Inn, rejoining Lord Beric and Thoros. The Inn had become the sometime quarters of the Brotherhood Without Banners and both Beric and Thoros welcomed him. He was chewing on some meat, his two hounds at his feet begging scraps, when two soldiers came bursting in. They looked like folk from the crownlands, mayhaps from House Rykker of Duskendale.

“Did you hear? The Hand of the King was executed the three days before!”

Harry stilled, feeling Moony lick his hand after receiving some meat, and looked to Thoros and Beric. He glanced over to the man sitting next to Beric, a guard of Winterfell that had been with their company when Lord Stark sent them after the Mountain. Harwin just continued to eat after going pale.

“Lord Eddard Stark is dead then?” Harry questioned, peering up at the newcomers.

“He was a traitor to the crown. He’s dead of course!”


	3. Chapter 3

“Any other news?” Robb questioned, looking around at the table in front of him that held most of his northern lords. It had been a week since he had been crowned King in the North, a week since they had received news of Ned’s beheading. His father was dead, killed by the king. Everything had seemed to happen in a blur since they had received the raven that spoke of that news.

Riverrun had been relieved of the siege by the Lannisters and most of the riverlords had asked for leave to return to their castles, to see what the damage was and to retake them from the lions. Robb had set his northern lords to patrol the riverlands and to scout.

“We’ve heard word of a huge pack of wolves,” Wendel Manderly said, taking another bite of food. Wendel’s stomach was already huge and Robb was amazed that the man was still able to wield a bow or ride a horse. “But that’s nothing new. The Young Wolf is here!”

Greatjon Umber laughed, loud and happy.

Robb grinned, glancing to his mother and Ser Brynden Tully. “Mother, I would like you to go to treat with King Renly and see about an alliance.”

“King Renly? He’s only playing at war,” Catelyn remarked, a frown on her lips.

“Renly hasn’t even fought a battle yet,” Brynden added, his eyes narrowing. “But I can see the possible alliance. If we fought together, Lord Tywin would be fighting a unified front. Besides, the Reach would add supplies and men to our cause easily enough. Renly would be better than Stannis, for sure.”

“Very well. I’ll go.”

“I shall escort your lady mother,” Wendel offered, dipping his head in a nod. “It has become dangerous to go about alone in the riverlands.”

 

* * *

  


Harry and his hounds ended up at Raventree Hall a day or two later, after finishing up with House Bracken. Raventree Hall was the seat of House Blackwood and Harry had heard that it had one of the greatest and biggest weirwood trees in Westeros. Nearly a fortnight after he left Stone Hedge, he saw his father and his men leaving the keep of House Blackwood.

Smoke wafted up from the keep ahead of him and he urged his horse forward, keeping off the well trodden paths to avoid his father. He heard them laugh and speak about raping and burning the keep’s harvest as they passed, taking no notice of him or his hounds.

The Lannister banner was flying high over the keep and Harry wrinkled his nose at the sight, seeing Moony and Padfoot spread out automatically to look for scouts. Harry stopped his horse behind a huge tree and drew his blade, hearing his father’s men ride off into the distance. The urge to follow and stop them was great but the taken keep in front of him lured him into battle.

He dismounted his horse, tied it to a tree, and crept up to the keep’s walls. Moony and Padfoot stayed with his horse after he signaled them and then he peered up at the walls, noting the Lannister guardsmen patrolling them. Harry eyed them before pulling on his invisibility cloak and focusing his magic enough that he floated up into the air.

He flew up, up, up and hovered over the wall, peering into the courtyard and seeing the Lannister cloaked guardsmen patrol it. It seemed that Tywin had left a garrison of men to hold Raventree Hall before moving on. Harry didn’t recognize any of the men but then again, he hadn’t spent much time in or around either Casterly Rock or Lannisport.

He dropped down onto the wall and quietly ran across it, taking the stairs at the watchtower and running down to the yard below. He slew the Lannister men that he came across, letting their bodies drop with a loud thump. It drew attention, which was exactly what he wanted as he ran over to the portcullis and opened the gate. Moony and Padfoot came howling in and charged right at the Lannister guards. Harry pulled off his cloak after that, killing any and all Lannister men that attacked.

The men of House Blackwood that were in the courtyard all dropped what they were doing, at least the ones who were not in chains, and picked up fallen swords. Padfoot howled again, taking a bite out of one man, while Moony had jumped up onto another, pulling a man’s arm from his shoulder. Harry fought through the men into the late morning.

The sun rose on a Lannister free Raventree Hall and on the approach of more riders. Lady Blackwood and her only daughter came out of the keep as Harry slowly came to a stop, peering out through the portcullis and gate.

“Thank you.”

Harry nodded, narrowing his eyes at the approaching riders, and then sighed in relief. The riders bore the Blackwood banner, of the black and white weirwood tree in the center surrounded by black crows on red.

“Are you a knight?” Bethany Blackwood asked, the only daughter of Lord Tytos Blackwood. The heir and other sons of Lord Blackwood were with him as Harry saw them enter through the gate.

“Yes,” Harry answered, seeing the young girl smile.

Lord Tytos Blackwood rode through the gate and stopped in the yard before them, looking around at the keep. The stables were burning and there were several areas of smoke surrounding the keep in the valley. The bodies of the Lannister garrison lay where they had fallen, blood seeping from them.

“My lady,” Tytos whispered, dismounting and walking right up to his wife and pulling her in for a kiss.

“Who is this? We weren’t challenged at the gate by Lannister men,” Tytos remarked, after pulling back from his wife. He glanced right at Harry and the two hounds by his side.

“Ser Harry, of the Reach. I came to help.”

“He single handedly killed most of the Lannister garrison,” Lady Blackwood added, raising an eyebrow. “He rose over most of them and appeared out of nowhere. His hounds took down the rest.”

Lord Tytos Blackwood stared at him, blinked once or twice. “The Old Gods must have sent you to help us. You have our thanks then. You must have dinner with us.”

“My lord, I can’t--”

“You have saved my keep and my family,” Tytos said, dipping his head in a nod. “It is the least we can do to thank you.”

Harry hesitated, glancing in the direction that his father had gone, then back to Lord Blackwood. “Alright. I will stay one night then I really should be going.”

  


* * *

 

 

As the sun moved about the horizon, the men and women of House Blackwood set about repairing the castle and dragging away the dead bodies. The Blackwood banner flew on the ramparts again and Harry stared up at it briefly before turning into the castle, following the slight sense of… death that he felt. It was drawing him in, the ancient power calling to him only just barely.

He had never felt this before, this energy. He followed it, around the keep and into the wooded area behind it only to stop and stare at the sight that was before him. The biggest weirwood tree that he had ever seen stood in front of him, apart from all of the other trees.

Its’ roots were large, occasionally bumping up above ground every so often. The tree limbs almost looked like they reached all the way up to the clouds, as long as they were. The red face was on the center of the big trunk, carved there by… Well, Harry vaguely recalled that some people thought that the faces on heart trees had been carved by the children of the forest.

The sun glowed behind the tree, causing the tree to glow an eerie yellow, as dusk fell. The last meal of the day was in an hour and it seemed like the crows had the same idea, as hundreds of birds came to roost in the weirwood tree. Harry just stood there and stared at the tree for a while, entranced by the sheer size of it. It looked dead and still… He could hear a humming, just below the surface of it, almost quiet.

“Some think that the Brackens killed it.”

Harry stiffened and turned around, seeing a tall young man who looked rather gangly. He looked the boy over, noting some similarities to Lord Tytos Blackwood.

“Hoster Blackwood or Hos. My mother says you just appeared out of nowhere.”

“It’s not dead,” Harry finally said, glancing back to the tree and taking a step closer to it.

Hoster’s eyes widened as he came up to stand next to Harry. “It’s not dead? How do you know?”

“It’s calling to me.”

Harry closed the distance between the tree and reached up to place his hand over the face, shivering at the coolness of the bark, and extended his magic. The weirwood tree seemed to shake under him, trembling minutely and then light bloomed behind his eyes. Something started to draw on his power, sucking. His knees buckled and the last thing he saw was a new bloom on the tree’s lower limb.

 

* * *

  


“Ser Harry?”

 

“Harrold!”

  


“I’m awake!” Harry exclaimed, blinking his eyes open to see Lord Tytos and his wife over him. Their only daughter, Bethany, and Hoster were by his feet, their eyes wide. Hoster helped him up, taking his hand and lifting him.

“What happened? You touched the weirwood and then you fell.”

“I…”

“It’s alive!”

“Whatever you did, the heart tree’s alive!” Hoster said excitedly, his blue eyes wide.

“What?” Harry rubbed at his eyes and turned around, facing the tree, his eyes widening. The tree was indeed alive, with red leaves curling outward from the limbs. The tree looked like it had fresh, vibrant energy flowing through it, its’ bark now more white than it had been.“Wow.”

Lord Blackwood let out a loud, surprised laugh. “We’re in your debt again, ser. Whatever you are or did, let us go celebrate our weirwood tree and the old gods. My son says you keep to the old gods too?”

“I do.”

“Rare for one of the Reach but with times like these…”

“My lord?”

“At least Riverrun has been relieved. The North has arrived.”


	4. Chapter 4

Moony and Padfoot yawned as they woke up the next morning, their slow yawns making Harry laugh. He slowly swung his legs off of the bed that the Blackwoods had offered, his hands finding something underneath his pillow. Sticks. He grasped them and squinted, seeing the white, alive and healthy bark of the weirwood.

Harry grinned and threw on some clothes before taking off to the rookery of Raventree Hall, skipping past Hoster and Bethany. His hounds followed him across the yard and up the tower, seeing the maester at work organizing the place after the Lannister men had messed everything up.

“Ser Harry?”

Harry shook his head, looking out at the few ravens that were still in the rookery then out the big window. He sighed, glancing out at the sky above the castle. There were clouds in the sky, rain clouds and some small thunder clouds. The ravens in the rookery screeched at him, their loud caws drowning out the sounds of the repairs to the castle down below. A spot of white caught his eye, making him grin.

Harry walked towards the white raven, watching as it blinked its’ black eyes at him. “Mind if I borrow a few of your feathers?”

The raven cawed up at him, mantling for a few seconds, enough for a few feathers to fall. Harry’s eyes widened at the apparent intelligence in the bird then grabbed the feathers off the perch. The feathers were softer and thicker than the black ravens, brushing lightly within his fingers.

“It’s autumn, isn’t it?” Harry questioned as he turned and walked to the door of the rookery, looking to his left to the maester.

“It is. The white raven arrived just yesterday,” the Blackwood maester remarked, looking at the feathers clutched within his hand. “I was able to save it from the Lannisters sacking.”

“Autumn…” Harry trailed off, opening the door and walking out, stopping just in the courtyard. Moony and Padfoot sat at his feet, scenting the air. There was a slight chill in the air, having arrived sometime in the last week. “I suppose the Northerners brought the north with them.”

Padfoot let out a soft huff, almost like a doggy laugh and Harry snorted. “Sometimes I feel like you two really are the spirits of my godfather and his werewolf husband. Other times…”

Moony turned around to sniff at his backside and Harry laughed, walking to one empty corner of the yard and heading to the stables to ready his horse.

 

* * *

 

 

He left the Blackwoods to their rebuilding and took off east, keeping to the wooded area of the riverlands. Around midday, he passed by a group of men with no banners flying above them and one familiar squire. Lord Beric waved when he passed them by, yelling about a smallfolk farm that had been burned to the ground by the Mountain.

“Is Ser Raymun alright?” Harry questioned, as he urged his horse towards them. 

“He left to go back to his castle,” Ned answered, grimacing before smiling down at Harry’s hounds. “Riverrun has been retaken, if you haven’t heard.”

“I heard. I just came from Raventree Hall,” Harry said, hearing howling in the distance. The sound was faintly familiar, perhaps the direwolf that he had seen a week ago. “They’re freed from Lannister control now.”

“You helped them?” Beric confirmed.

“Hmm. Yes. Lord Bracken’s family too.”

“Where are you heading to now?” Ned asked, turning his horse towards Harry’s. “I ask because there’s a big wolf pack around these lands. They might not take a liking to your hounds.”

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Harry replied, grinning a little. “The one led by a she-wolf?”

Ned’s blue eyes widened and so did Beric’s. “You weren’t harmed?”

“No. Are they hunting people? Wolves don’t usually go after men.”

“This pack is,” Beric explained, his voice a little awed. “We’ve seen the results.”

Harry blinked and looked down at his dogs before looking at Ned. “Well, I’ll keep my eyes open, thanks.”

Ned dipped his head in a nod. “Your dogs are nice. I just don’t want them killed.”

“I agree,” Harry responded, smiling. “I’m headed towards Castle Darry for now. I think that’s where the Mountain was headed.”

“You’re tracking him?!” Ned asked. “Alone?”

“I won’t be alone. I have my two hounds.”

Beric’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard some reports that say the Mountain’s son has been seen too. Be careful.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “I thought the Mountain’s son was different?”

“No one knows who the Mountain’s son is except that he was with child years ago,” Beric said, shrugging. “Thoros mentioned him, said his Red God had marked him.”

“That’s… great,” Harry finally said, sighing at the thought of there being another prophecy or of being a god’s chosen figure. He had had enough of that. Maybe he just wouldn’t talk to a red priest then. He had heard that Stannis Baratheon had one on his council though it wasn’t like he was headed to Dragonstone. There probably weren’t that many red priests in Westeros, as the red god was prayed to mostly in Essos. “I’ll be off then.”

“Oh, and the Lannisters have taken Harrenhal,” Beric added, nodding in the direction of the ruined castle. “Take care.”

“Thanks for the update. I know the route I’ll take,” Harry replied, nodding in farewell. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

He tracked his father and his father’s men all the way to Darry, eying the Mountain’s men and the castle in front of them. He glanced down at Moony and Padfoot and then back to where the castle defenders were lining the walls. “Perhaps this is where we take a stand.”

Howls echoed behind him and he turned to see the big she-wolf slink out of the woods, leading several wolves. The she-wolf stared at him and the wolves behind her stayed where they were, having already ascertained that Moon and Padfoot were friends. 

Gregor Clegane had a hundred Lannister men behind him and his own men as they set about towards the castle. It was past noon, the sun hiding behind clouds in the sky and the chill in the air had not gone away. It had rained lightly late morning as he was tracking his father but the rain had stopped a few minutes ago, creating a muddy ground.

The horses that his father and his father’s men rode were covered in mud, sweat and blood. The swords that Harry could see were slathered in blood already and he could see a few bodies laying on the ground before the castle. 

“Alright, we take them by surprise,” Harry whispered, dismounting from his horse and tying the mare to a tree. The she-wolf blinked her dark golden eyes at him then growled, low and lethal, bending her legs into a stalking position. “I have no urge to keep my father alive. Not after all he’s done. After what his men have done.”

Moony growled and Padfoot’s tail froze, his lips curling back, showing his teeth.

“Nor do I care about being a kinslayer. Not for this man,” Harry muttered, slipping Gryffindor’s sword from its’ sheath. “My father was the servant who cared for me. My mother was the wet-nurse who fed me and the servants who shielded me from father’s rage.”

“Go.”

The direwolf behind them howled, loud and eerie, before charging. Her huge pack, of maybe twenty plus wolves, charged with her. Moony and Padfoot waited for him and Harry started at the men with a run, quick and silent, drawing on his magic and casting a blasting charm. A wind picked up behind them and with it, the force of his magic riled up the horses and threw men off their saddles, hit horses with the force of a train.

Horses screamed and men yelled in surprise before cursing at the huge wolf pack charging towards them. Harry lost himself to the battle, cutting through men wearing Lannister colors and men, switching between magic and the blade at his side to cut his way through. 

He could see the big direwolf leap at Ser Amory Lorch, the man who had cut Rhaenys Targaryen into shreds, and rip out his throat. He saw Moony bring down the man who had raped him all those years ago, blood pouring out of the man’s chest as the hound tore his heart out.

The Mountain yelled out, drawing his huge sword, and charging into battle, killing two wolves with one swipe of his sword. Harry heard the big direwolf howl, loud and ferocious, as she took on Harry’s father. He winced as Gregor killed yet another wolf, but he could see that a lot of the Lannister men were already dead, their throats ripped out.

A few were still fighting, back to back, as wolves surrounded them. The direwolf’s eyes seemed to glow in the little light of the day and Harry faintly sensed another aura riding along in the direwolf’s body, before focusing on the man in Lannister colors before him. Before long, it was just Gregor Clegane still standing, the direwolf having been kicked far off. Harry was flanked by five wolves and his two hounds, his fingers curling into claws as his magic soared around him. 

Gregor’s eyes widened as he saw Harry and simultaneously as Harry whispered the two words, a horn sounded and the gate of Castle Darry opened, letting out twenty horsemen. The sickly green light of the killing curse seemed to jump from his fingers and sped right at the Mountain, only to bounce off a shield. Harry growled in frustration, more hound than man now, feeling the wolf pack’s anger at their alpha being injured.

“Traitor!” Gregor shouted, his grey eyes narrowed in anger and in pain. His father had always been in pain whenever Harry had seen him at Clegane’s keep. “You are no son of mine!”

Harry saw Ser Raymun Darry at the lead of the riders, his blue eyes wide as his men surrounded Gregor and him. The wolves slunk off and Harry winced at the sight of the direwolf leading them, looking to where his own hounds were and breathing a sigh of relief when he saw them, uninjured but covered in blood. 

The riders around them pointed their swords and spears at him and his father, men dismounting and struggling to contain the Mountain.

“Harry?”

“Your eyes!”

Harry blinked and took a deep breath, slowly sheathing his blade and drawing his magic back in. 

“Ser Harry? You’re the Mountain’s son?” Ser Raymun questioned, as Darry guards pushed Gregor to the ground, their spears touching his skin in threat. “Why…”

“I cannot change who my father is,” Harry offered quietly, bowing his head. “You can arrest me, if you want.”

“I should. King Robb probably would want to question you.”

“King?”

“You haven’t heard? Robb Stark is now King in the North.”

Harry blinked, turning to see Darry’s men flank him. “There hasn’t been a king in the north since Torrhen bent the knee to Aegon.”

Raymun nodded, his eyes bright as they looked to the Mountain. “We’re taking him to the king for execution. You… You saved my life and kept him from taking my castle. You are free to go.”

“What? You’re not… keeping me?”

His men grumbled.

“You can come with us if you like,” Raymun remarked, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug. “If you really are the Mountain’s son.”

“My real name is Harrold Clegane,” Harry said, sighing. “But I… you can execute him if you want. I was going to kill him.”

“What of the wolf pack you came with?” 

“That was probably the youngest Stark’s direwolf,” another man said, blinking at the thought. 

“Nymeria, if I remember correctly,” Raymun said, mounting his horse. “That was a bit of bad politics. Queen Cersei is a Lannister at heart. You killed Amory. The Dornish will be glad to hear of that.”

“So she is a direwolf then.”

“Yes. Are you coming or not?”

“I guess so. Let me fetch my horse.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Robb watched as men rode into the courtyard of Riverrun, bearing the banner of House Darry. The sun was low in the sky and a slight chill was in the air, with autumn having been called by the maesters. It had been two months since he had been crowned King in the North, a month of idle time since… they had received the raven that had carried the news. Lord Eddard Stark was dead. His father was dead, executed by King Joffrey Baratheon. Grey Wind whined at his feet, leaning into him, and Robb reached out a hand to entangle in the direwolf’s fur, glad for the distraction and the reassurance.

He flinched at the thought, his heart aching. He had cried himself to sleep that night, wanting his father to still be alive and not killed alone in a den of lions. He would take Eddard alive over being crowned King in the North right now.

The banner of House Darry was of the plowman working the field and Robb studied the men, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him. The lord of House Darry was a knight, Ser Raymun Darry, who was leading the men and… a prisoner. The Mountain was shackled and chained to a horse’s saddle between the Darry men, his large body covering the horse entirely.

Robb stared and took a step towards Ser Darry as they stopped in the yard. Ser Brynden Tully and Edmure stood next to him and Robb saw him drop a hand to the blade at his waist. Catelyn was behind them a little ways but he heard her sharp inhale at the sight.

“Is that really…” Robb trailed off, his eyes widening even more. “The Mountain!”

“Aye, it’s the Mountain, your Grace,” Ser Darry said, pulling his horse to a stop in front of him and dismounting. “We caught him and the Mountain’s son!”

Robb stared at the rivermen in front of him, just now seeing the young man towards the back of the group. The man was not in Darry colors but he had two hounds at the feet of his horse, one black hound and the other a pure white. The man was tall as he dismounted freely, not chained up at all. Robb stiffened as the man walked towards them, taking in the light green eyes and the shaggy black hair. The man looked to be the same age as Robb, mayhaps ten and seven or he could be one year older. Robb hadn’t heard much about the son of the Mountain; no one knew much about the boy but everyone knew of his father and his uncle.

Brynden Tully drew his sword, pointing it at the young man. Ser Darry walked up, handing the reins of his horse to a hostler and gestured at Harrold Clegane. 

“He saved Castle Darry,” Ser Raymun said, dipping his head towards the man. “He helped to recover Raventree Hall from the Lannisters too. Lord Blackwood will vouch for him.”

Robb crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. “Take his father to the dungeons.”

“Your Grace.” Harrold Clegane bent the knee, kneeling before him. The two hounds followed Clegane and flanked him, their tails going still and their ears twitching at every noise. Grey Wind’s ears perked up, flicking in the hounds direction but otherwise showing no aggression towards them. “House Martell will like to know you have the Mountain. If you have need of allies, I would think that Prince Oberyn will come the moment he hears.”

Tully and Stark guardsmen came forward to escort Gregor Clegane into the keep and down into the dungeons, dragging the giant man down from the horse. The Mountain had a gag in his mouth but Robb could still see the murderous glare that Gregor was directing to his son as he passed. 

Lords Roose Bolton, Rickard Karstark, Greatjon Umber and Lady Maege Mormont all jeered and whistled as they rode into the courtyard. Lord Bolton’s eyes widened and Robb raised an eyebrow his way. Roose stayed quiet and then turned back around, readying his men to head to the Twins, where he would marry a Frey girl. 

“You are the Mountain’s son then?” Robb questioned.

“Aye, I am. Though… I don’t like it. I will never like it,” Harrold remarked, peering up at Robb. “I may be blood related to the man but I will never call him father.”

“You shouldn’t say that about your father, boy,” Rickard Karstark spoke, as Robb’s lords came to stand in a semi-circle around them.

“You haven’t had him for a father,” Harrold offered, his lips twitching up into a wry frown. “I am yours if you want. If not, I will continue to aid the riverlands.”

“Why?” Robb asked, taking a step closer to him. There was something about the man that intrigued him, his voice made him sound older than he looked. And then there was the strange way he was making Robb’s heart flutter in his chest, heat build in his stomach. This was the son of the Mountain; he shouldn’t be attracted to a man, especially this one.

“Why what?”

“Don’t talk to the king like that,” Greatjon exclaimed, drawing his sword on the Clegane boy. “He’s the King in the North!”

“I know that. Why what? Why am I aiding the riverlands when my blood says I should be raping, pillaging and looting them? Because this isn’t my first… war. War is ugly, nasty and should be avoided. If times were different, I would be raising a family. My father thinks differently, I know. You know what my father did when I was born? He killed the wet nurse that I was being handed to, just because she made noise.

I want to make up for what he has done and aiding the riverlands is a nice start,” Harrold finished, inhaling deeply. “Besides, I have a thing for saving people. Now, what’s your choice? Should I stay or go?”

“He could give us information on the westerlands,” Greatjon muttered, glancing Robb’s way. “If Lord Blackwood vouches for him first.”

“When is Lord Blackwood supposed to be back?” Robb asked, looking to Catelyn and Edmure. They were the ones who knew the riverlands, who really knew the land around them.

“In a moon’s turn. His lands were badly hit by the Mountain.”

Robb sighed and turned back to the man in front of him. “You can stay, Ser Harrold. Do not arouse our suspicion though.”

Harrold nodded and slowly stood up, rocking back on the heels of his feet and running a hand through his dark hair. “You can execute my father. I have no need to keep him alive.”

Ser Darry nodded. “Your Grace, if you please, I just traveled back to Riverrun to deliver them. Give me leave to return to Castle Darry and I will hold it for you and Lord Tully.”

“You have leave to and hold your keep. Thank you, ser Darry,” Robb offered, dipping his head in a slight nod. “This will change the tide of the war now that we have Tywin’s mad dog. My lords, I would hold a war council in an hour.”

 

* * *

 

 

Harry watched as the King in the North strode through the keep and out of the gate, presumably towards one of the bigger tents around the castle. Moony and Padfoot flanked him on either side of his feet and perked up when they saw Robb’s direwolf walk by. Grey Wind turned in their direction, scented the air a little and then loped off ahead of the northern party.

“Ser Darry?”

Raymun turned to look at him as he was mounting his horse again.

“Thanks,” Harry said, shrugging a little.

“No thanks needed here. Thank you for aiding House Darry,” Raymun returned, slipping onto the back of his horse and wheeling it around. “If you have need of anything, send a raven my way.”

“Will do. Be careful out there,” Harry said, gesturing to the overall riverlands. 

“We caught the Mountain. It’s safer out there thanks to you.”

Raymun kicked his horse and galloped out of Riverrun, his guardsmen following him out. Harry watched as he left and then turned to look at the castle in front of him. Riverrun was shaped in a peculiar way, shaped like a triangle, three sided and much smaller than Harrenhal but not as small as the keep in which Harry grew up.

The rivers that surrounded the castle were long and wide, full of fast moving water. Harry sighed, glanced up at the midday sun and headed over to one of the walls, walking up the stairs and glanced out at the country around him. He spotted a Stark guard tailing him but ignored him for the most part, watching as his hounds explored the walls of Riverrun. 

He could see the big tent amidst the northerners, a tent that was decked out in Stark colors and their banner, a grey direwolf running on an ice field. It was about a half a mile from the castle of Riverrun and several men milled about in the military camp between him and the tent. He had no doubts on whether or not he would be allowed into Robb’s war council as his allegiance was not yet verified but…

Moony and Padfoot trotted back to him and Padfoot peered up at him, his tail wagging. Harry raised an eyebrow back and then slowed his breathing, focusing on the dog in front of him. It only took a minute to flow into Padfoot’s mind and body and then they were off, running back down the stairs and squeezing through a gap in the gate house.

No one paid any mind to the black hound that trotted through the men’s tents, around the horses and the smith’s tents. Harry trotted and wove through the tents and slowed as he reached King Robb’s tent, wagging his tail as people glanced down at him so as to not arouse suspicion. 

Grey Wind was curled up in front of the tent and Harry perked his ears up, wagged his tail slightly and studied the direwolf. Grey Wind was already very big, had reached up to Robb’s waist when Harry had first seen them. The direwolf had his own innate magic within, some ancient, wild power that seemed to radiate outward. Harry scented the air through Padfoot’s nose, smelling old bits of blood that had caked into the wolf’s fur and metal. 

The clang of metal against metal filled the air as blacksmiths went to work and knights of House Tully sparred against one another. Horses whinnied as they were tied to picket lines throughout the camp, content to stand there and wait until feeding time. 

Grey Wind raised his head as Padfoot approached and bumped his nose against the smaller hound, the direwolf’s yellow eyes glinting with curiosity. Harry grinned a hound’s grin, opening his mouth and panting a little and gave Grey Wind a lick to his furry cheek. Grey Wind reared back a little, his yellow eyes going wide, and Harry grinned in amusement as he walked past the wolf.

He slipped under the tent wall and over to the table in the center of the room. Men were crowded into every available spot at the table and were standing around. There were only two women in the whole crowd and they both wore the sigil of House Mormont of Bear Island. Harry guessed one was Lady Maege Mormont, the head of the house ever since Jorah had been exiled. The younger woman might have been Lady Maege’s daughter, Dacey.

Robb sat at the very center, at the bench opposite Padfoot. 

“I sent Theon to gather support from Lord Greyjoy,” Robb said, pointing to a place on the table. “We can’t attack King’s Landing without ships.”

Harry urged Padfoot a little closer to the table and the hound rose to his full height, not quite as tall as Grey Wind, but it let Harry see what was on the table. A map lay on the table, showing the whole of Westeros, along with little figurines of houses. Lions for House Lannister armies, wolves for House Stark, fish for House Tully, roses for House Tyrell, and stags for House Baratheon. There was nothing for House Arryn or House Martell and Harry huffed out a sigh. One of the men sitting the bench next to him peered down at him, raising an eyebrow, and then turned back to the council.

“The ironborn? Those are our enemies! We can’t ally with them!”

“They’d sooner attack us than attack King’s Landing!”

“Is there any word from your aunt, Lady Arryn?”

“What of sending a raven to Prince Doran or Prince Oberyn Martell? We all know the Red Viper wants revenge on House Lannister. They’d be better than the ironborn at least.”

“They don’t have ships though.”

“And they’re Dornish. No one wants them here.”

“We need to start planning our invasion of the westerlands, Your Grace.”

Harry rolled his eyes. The Dornish would be the exact kind of people the northerners would want here. And there was no reason in the world for Prince Oberyn Martell to not come to the riverlands to take revenge on the Mountain for the death of his sister. The men at the table bickered more and Harry growled at least a few times at the obvious racism. He glanced up a bit, better able to see Robb, seeing his narrowed blue eyes. Robb looked exhausted and at least a little bit annoyed with his lords as they bickered amongst each other.

“We have the Mountain though. That’s cause for celebration!”

“The King in the North!”

Harry gave out a huff of breath again and then trotted out, urging Padfoot back to Riverrun and then left his mind. When he opened his eyes again, he was back on the walls of the castle, seeing men leaving the king’s tent. He sighed, glancing down to his feet where Moony was curled up, and then looked back to the king’s tent.

Robb really had his work cut out for him if he intended on invading the westerlands and laying siege to King’s Landing. Harry idly wondered where Lady Catelyn Stark was and idly figured that she was heading back to Winterfell. 

In his former life, Harry had always figured kings and lords to be utterly unattractive, old stuffy men. And yet when he had first seen Robb, his heart thumped in his chest and his cheeks had reddened. Robb Stark was beautiful and a redhead. Harry snorted at the thought, shaking his head as he heard Padfoot run up the stone stairs. 


End file.
